Where the Fault Lies
by FateBecomesHer
Summary: Ron is dead and Hermione is reeling from the loss of her first love and best friend. She is becoming someone completely different. She uses Draco Malfoy to take herself away the pain. Can he, the one you would never expect, heal her loss?


Where the Fault Lies

Chapter One

FateBecomesHer

_**Disclaimer**: This is not mine. Is property of J.K. Rowling. _

The first three months back at Hogwarts for her seventh year was a hell on Earth for Hermione. She never thought that school would actually be the bane of her existence. Seventh year wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be the three of them, together, laughing and having a great time, despite the horrendous battle that they had endured that summer.

But it wasn't at all like it was _supposed _to be. Harry was with the Ministry, as per the Minister's orders, helping rid the wizarding world of the errant Death Eaters. Ginny was a year younger and not really keen on dealing with Hermione at the moment. And…and…-and Ron was dead. Hermione was left to her own devices at Hogwarts. She was left with her own regrets and dreams and despair.

Ron was dead.

The phrase resounded in her mind as she walked the long route to Potions class.

_Ron was dead. Ron was dead. Ron was dead. Ron was dead. Ron was dead. Ron was dead. _

She didn't want to run into any of her classmates who would want to offer some sort of sympathy. She didn't want or need it at the moment. She was trying to figure things out on her own.

Ron was dead and it was all her fault. No matter how people said that she wasn't to blame, that it wasn't her responsibility and that she shouldn't blame herself, Hermione knew better. It was all her FAULT! If Ron had never of seen her in danger with Lucius, if she had never called for help…if, if, if.

They'd all pretty much lasted to the majority of the Last Battle without any major injuries or a high death toll. Then, Malfoy's father had snuck up on her while she was surveying the carnage with a look of disgust and had shot at her the killing curse. Ron, being the wonderful man that he was, jumped in front of her, and taken to blow to himself. He'd died in her arms, because he had tried to protect her. She'd immediately looked at Lucius with venom in her eyes, and cursed him to oblivion. That was the only time during the whole battle that she had ever had to kill someone and was satisfied at doing it. She had been heartbroken.

Ron had died because of her.

Guilt and love rolled in her stomach as a painful reminder of her loss. She'd only just realized her feelings for him, and never got to tell him. He was her first serious boyfriend. Her first one true love. The first person she'd ever made love with. And he was gone.

She sat down wearily at her desk in Potions, not really paying mind to the teenagers and they entered with boisterous conversation and chatter. It didn't matter to her who sat by her now. Pulling out her notebooks, color-coded and numbered, and heaving a sigh of resignation, Hermione readied herself for her first double Potions with the Slytherins.

Professor Dimwalt, Snape's replacement, who couldn't be called better, by any extent, had an entrance that had been deemed grander than that of Snape. His hair was a dull, bland brown and was unkempt to say the least. It reached to his shoulders and was as frazzled as Snape's had been greasy. He had piggish features and he often snorted when laughing at one of his own jokes. Though he had once seemed quite the charming fellow, an easy teacher to please, he had at once showed his authority with five detentions his first time teaching. As he made his way from the classroom entrance to his desk, every book in his wake snapped open to the desired page. He was secretly called Dimwit by most of the student population.

"Healing," he began dramatically, and not without his usual sneer, "is especially important in these times of death and dismemberment. The next section project will be in sync with the next four Healing Chapters in Volume Seven of your Potions book. I will pair you together in groups of four. You will each pick a potion from one of the chapters and complete the following tasks. One will- Miss Granger, why aren't you writing this down?"

Like his predecessor, Professor Dimwalt was hell-bent on making life miserable for any Gryffindor he came across. Headmistress McGonagall thought that he was a perfect replacement because he had great references and credentials. He wasn't, however, as much of a hit with the students. Even the Slytherins. He wasn't the easy-going man Snape had been with them. He actually made them work. Of course, he never took points away from the Slytherin house, which was a privilege he left only for the Gryffindors.

"What?" Had he been telling them something important? She hadn't really been paying attention. Lavender was motioning from behind Dimwalt towards the board. On it were notes on the project. "Oh, sorry, professor. Won't happen again."

"It'd better not, Miss Granger. But just as an incentive, five points from Gryffindor." Lavender shot Hermione a scathing look. "Now, as I was saying. The first thing you are to do for this project is summarize the origin, uses, proper procedure for making the potion, and results of the potion (including effects, colors, thickness, etc.). Two, make the potion and test it on a specimen, to be provided later. Three, provide a detailed explanation of why you chose this particular potion. The summary and the explanation essay should both be two feet long. This project is due in two months. We will begin on it after Christmas Break. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor." The class intoned.

Great, Hermione thought. Another project for her to remember the great times she and Ron had had while working on some useless assignment or another. She'd miss him screwing everything up, and procrastinating, that was for sure.

"..Marvel, Crick, Thompson, and Patil," Dimwalt was saying. "Okay, last group. Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and Granger." Much to the three Slytherins' surprise, she offered no protest. "Please choose your potions by the end of class. Copies of the books, if you have otherwise misplaced yours, are on my desk. Don't damage them, or you will be seriously reprimanded. You have ten minutes. GO!"

Void of emotion, she retrieved a copy of the book and went to the desks of her partners. After complete silence, while paging though the battered book, she voiced her opinion. "I think we should do the Self-Healing Potion. It's the least complicated, it has a lot of history, and it's easy enough for all of us to make with out screwing it up. Okay?"

Her monotonous tone surprised Malfoy, who didn't quite like any sort of surprise. "Fine. You're the boss."

Her face didn't change. "Okay. Meet me in the library after dinner, so we can start researching. The Potions section."

Crabbe and Goyle shook their heads, looking much like bobble-head dolls.

"We'll be there." Malfoy replied.

Hermione sat at their table until the bell for next class rang. It was seven minutes of pure silence. She didn't take care to notice that her three partners were staring at her queerly. They didn't want to say anything. Or couldn't rather, because her actions stunned them.

She took the quiet time to kill Malfoy in her mind. Place him in Ron's place instead of being alive. Why couldn't it have been him who was mercilessly taken from this world? He was the one who tried to kill Dumbledore. Even in the Committee for the Deranged found him innocent, he was still a black soul. He didn't deserve to be here with Ron dead. He deserved to be the one rotting in a grave. She silently fumed.

On the outside, she looked vacant. Her eyes bore into the table and it seemed as if they would catch the rock-hard wood on fire if they were put up to it. Her face was devoid of everything. She had a yellow pallor to her skin and her lips looked as if they had never smiled before and may never again.

Malfoy was simply amazed. She was nothing like the girl that had been there sixth year. He could say the same for himself. She must have loved Weasel very much to have been this affected by his death. He almost felt sorry for her…almost. But for the rest of the class, he watched her. She didn't move and inch the entire time. Crabbe and Goyle, bless their hearts were confused. They didn't understand why the mudblood was here.

When the much awaited bell rang and students filed out, Professor Dimwalt called out to them demanding, "I want a summary of the four Healing Chapters on Monday! It must be at least thirteen inches long."

Hermione sighed violently and hitched her satchel higher up onto her shoulder. It was dinner time, and she wasn't hungry. She decided to get an early start on her Potions homework. She might as well; she had no one to hang out with and no plans for the evening. She made her way to the library, dodging the concerned glances from her peers. Trudging to the back of the library, she brushed and errant tear off of her cheek.

It took the trio of Slytherins five minutes to find her. They'd gone all through the Potions section; she was located all the way in the back of it. "Finally," said Crabbe.

Hermione looked up from her notes. "Oh, it's you. Well, sit down; don't just stand around the table like a bunch of statues."

They took seats around the circular table, all three of them looking a little bit confused. The mountains of books on the table frightened them. It seems as if she had done quite a bit of work already, so that was a major plus.

She began to speak without looking up as they sat down, "I've already looked up the origin and procedure for making the potion. It's pretty basic, as I have stated, and it takes a minimal amount of time to make, which is a plus. I am going to need you three to look through these books here," she indicated the three stacks in front of her, "and find out the projected effects and uses. We can check the effects later, of course, but I like to thorough."

"Okay, Granger." And they got to work.

Not counting the couple times one of them had a question, the studying time was quiet and uneventful. Hermione was for the greater part of the time, silent. Both Crabbe and Goyle, astonishingly, were working hard. She got the impression that they were slow readers. In two hours time, they were all yawning hard and could barely keep their drooping eyelids open. Malfoy suggested that they all go to sleep. "Right, mate, let's get some sleep. From the looks of this damn project, for the next couple of weeks. We're going to need it."

Hermione only nodded her acceptance and didn't even watch them leave. Malfoy paused for a moment, at the end of the book shelves to look back at the mudblood. She had her nose in the book and was scribbling something furiously on a piece of parchment. Her eyes were still vacant and didn't hold the expression of delight that they had once held at the sight of books.

Ron's death must have really affected her, he concluded. He left.

She saw Malfoy staring at her as he made his way out of the library. She paid no mind to that. He was probably just surprised that she hadn't tried to make some nasty comment. The whole time he was sitting there, with his smirking eyes and beating heart, she was trying to suppress the rage that was hidden inside her.

If they all only knew what was going on inside her mind.

XXXXX

_So how do you like it? It just came to me a while back. Review please. _

_**Fate**_


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